Twisted Desire (The Twisted Series) (32 page)

“Don’t get sassy with me, young lady.”

“Young lady?  Really?  What are you, twenty? 
Get over yourself.  My dad has a girlfriend now.  It’s safe to say
you need to back the fuck off.  He doesn’t want you.”

“You don’t think I know that?”  Jillian’s voice
screeches to an almost unbearable tone.

“Why are you here, Jillian?”

Jillian looks stunned, and is stumbling over her
words.  “I-j-just…”

“Just get the hell out of here.  We don’t want you…”

“Shut your mouth, you stupid little bitch.  I should
have ridded David of your big mouth when I had the chance two years ago.”

Hannah’s eyes grow wide, as realization dawns on her. 
“That was you!”

Before she can form another word, Jillian has the door
closed and has hands reaching out for her throat.  Hannah chokes on a
breath and claws at the psycho lady’s face, breaking her skin with her long
nails.

“You crazy bitch!”  Hannah screeches, fighting for a
breath.

A nurse pushes the door and props it open, not realizing
Hannah is fighting for her life.

“I’d appreciate if you would leave this door open,” the nurse
says, paying them no attention.

When she glances up, she’s horrified by what she sees, next
to the unconscious patient.

Jillian has Hannah on the floor, with her thumbs digging
into her throat, shaking her neck like a rubber chicken.  She’s snapping
her head, like she’s trying to break a wishbone and starts bouncing it off the
floor.  The nurse charges them and bangs the crazy lady’s head off the
hospital bed.  She then reaches for the red button, knocking the mask off
Harley’s face in the process.

Security has Jillian in cuffs, leading her kicking and
screaming to meet up with the police on the main floor in a matter of
minutes.  Hannah is sitting there with security, her hands shaking with a
potent mix of adrenaline and fear.  She starts telling them what has
happened, just as her father’s eyes open.

Harley opens a pair of dry, cracked lips, but no words come
out.

Hannah can’t stop shaking, even with the thick blanket drawn
over her shoulders.  Her knee bounces the entire time she talks to the
police, even though she has done nothing wrong.  She’s relieved when the
old man with the horrifying questions leaves her alone.

Suddenly, she catches a handsome young man with an
attractive English accent asking about her.  With but a glance in her
direction, he makes his way toward her, smiling at her as if they are long-time
friends.

“Are you okay?” he asks, kneeling next to her, gazing up
into her eyes.

The colorlessness in his irises hit her like a blast of
fresh air.  She nods her head, finding it difficult to speak after
Jillian’s had her fingers digging into her throat.

The man turns away.  “Get this poor girl a glass of
water,” he orders.  A glass materializes in his hand mere seconds later.

“Here.  This might help your sore throat.”  He
watches her sip from the glass.  “They’re treating you alright, yes?”

“Yes,” she sputters, taken aback by her attraction to this
older man.  But he’s charming and well-dressed and really cute.

“I’m Sergeant Caldwell.  But you can call me Spencer,
if you like.”

She nods yes, hiding her smile behind her jittery nerves.

“You’ve done well.  We’ve been trying to catch this
woman for years,” he explains, in the sexiest accent that has ever graced her
ears.  “When she became employed by your father, we knew it would only be
a matter of time before she reverted to her old ways.”

“My dad knew?” she asks, finally regaining her voice.

“He knew.”

“Who are you?”

“The fuzz,” he says, with a wink.

“But you’re not dressed in blue.”

“Would you like it better if I was?”

She shivers from his intimate suggestion.  She’ll deny
it if she’s ever asked, but she’d like very much to see that ass in uniform.

“I apologize.  You’ve been through enough.  You
don’t need me harassing you.  How’s your father doing?”

Hannah wishes he’d return to their other conversation. 
It had taken her mind away from the series of stressful events that had just
occurred, if only for a moment.  “Not good at all.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.  He’s a good man.  But if
he’s with my girl, Aliah, then he’s got his work cut out for himself. 
Even if he thinks he’s ready to die, Aliah isn’t going to let him call the
shots that easily.”

Hannah smiles softly.  “You know Aliah?”

“Ah, yes.  I’ve had the pleasure of dealing with her on
many occasions.  I admit most of late have involved cherries flashing and
a high-speed chase to the fitness club.”

Hannah loves how the words roll right off his sexy
tongue.  “She does have a fast ride.”  Her eyes grow wide, as she
slaps her hand over her mouth.

I can’t believe I just admitted that to him!

His smile is slanted and mischievous.  “It sounds like
I’ll be having to add you to my watch list, Miss Gates.”

Her heart flutters at the thought.

“Harley.  Harley,” Aliah cries.  “I can’t get
you!  I’m sorry.”

Abigail Santora leaps to Aliah’s bedside, as fast as a
pregnant woman can.  “Ally, I’m here.  It’s Abby.  You’re
okay.”  She grabs Aliah’s hand and squeezes it, hoping Aliah awakens with
a clear head.

Aliah’s eyes flash open, and she looks like she’s returned
from the dead.  “Where am I?”  Her question is borderline hysterical.

“You’re at the hospital.  Don’t worry.  You’re
going to be okay.  Just relax.”

“Harley?” she screeches.  Her eyes scatter around the
room looking for someone else; for any indication that he is with them.

“Don’t worry about that.  You have to concentrate on
you right now.  You scared us all with that bump on your head.”

“Abby, I swear to God, you’re going to tell me right now, or
I’m going to rip these machines off of me and go on a rampage tearing up every
room until I get answers.  If he’s dead, just say it.  Have the
decency to just tell me.”

Aliah closes her eyes, keeping her tears locked inside her
eyelids.  She knows that Abby is going to tell her, but she’s not sure
she’s prepared to hear the news.  If he has died, she’ll never be able to
live with herself.  They might as well pull the plug on her now.

“He didn’t die,” Abby says, clearly leaving something out.

“But…  Abby, don’t bull shit me right now.”

Abby sighs and rubs her swelling belly that is pretty-near
ready to burst.  “You’re not well enough to be dealing with this right
now.”

“If it was Edwin, wouldn’t you want to know?”

“Edwin’s my husband.  Of course I’d want to know.”

“Oh no,” Aliah states.  “You’re not playing that card
on me.”  Then she delivers Abby an emotional plea, acting totally out of
character.  “I love him, Abby.  Please.  I have to know.”

Abby nods, disbelief marring her worried features, as she
carefully regards the scared tears in Aliah’s eyes.

“He’s not in the clear just yet.  They got him out of
the car, but he took in a lot of water before they got him on land. 
They’ve had to revive him twice already.  It’s a good sign.  He’s
fighting.”

Aliah shakes her head, as the tears come pouring out of her
eyes.

“The doctors wanted to run some tests, to figure out why
he’s not waking up.”

“I have to see him,” Aliah states.  When she stands
from her bed, her knees fail her.  She drops to the floor, plucking the
intravenous from her wrist.  She wants to cry some more.  Everything
is so out of control.  She takes a deep breath and stands on shaky legs.

“At least let me help you,” Abby says, grabbing onto her
elbow.

Abby helps her walk down the hall and stops at the double
doors that lead to the intensive care rooms.  “I just need to use the
restroom.  The baby’s been putting so must pressure on my bladder these
days.  Wait for me?”

Aliah nods, but she has no intention of waiting for
her.  The second Abigail disappears into the bathroom, Aliah squirts the
hand sanitizer into her palm and waves at the nurse on the other side of the
glass who has just started her shift.  Aliah quickly hides her bloody
wrist and smiles at the woman, who watches her as she passes.  Aliah walks
quickly past her and ignores the other severely injured patients and their
traumatized family members, searching for the room bearing Harley’s name.

When she turns the corner and stops at the room where
Harley’s expected to be, she holds her breath and covers her mouth.  She
wonders if she’ll ever breathe again.  It’s his room, according to the
white marker board with his full name plastered across it.

David H. Gates.

But there’s no Harley there.

Tears flood her cheeks, as she assesses the room with a
blood splattered floor and an empty bed.  “No!”

Aliah means to scream, but it comes out as a heartbreaking
whisper.  Then she falls back down to weakened knees.  The worst of
all feelings balls in the pit of her stomach, squeezing on her insides with a
death grip.  She swallows to moisten her dry throat, but she is too terrified
to speak.  Does she want to know how he died?  Was he in pain?

A nurse approaches her and shoves her aside, causing her to
get to her feet.  The woman pulls the curtains closed with a huff.

“You aren’t supposed to be in here.  Please go back to
your room, Miss.”

Bitch.

As if Aliah weren’t already cool from the slit in the back
of her pale blue hospital gown, a chill overtakes her body, making her tremble
violently.  Abby comes running and grabs onto her arm.

“What’s wrong?  You said you would wait.”

“I lied.  Please take me to my room.”  The
breathless request causes Abby concern.  Aliah can see it in her eyes.

Aliah mopes back to her room, preparing herself to ask Abby
for the truth.  She hopes the stitch in her side is not a sign of the
truth.  She crawls into her bed, ready to cry the rest of her life away,
but tears don’t come.

“What is it, Ally?  What did you see?”

“Blood.  He’s gone.”

“What?  Are you sure?”

Aliah turns away, to grieve in silence, but when she glances
towards the door, Hannah’s standing there.  She looks completely
lost.  Aliah smears her tears away and holds her hands out to her.

Hannah comes running into the room and latches onto Aliah
with a hug that is so real.  “I’m scared, Ally.”

Aliah closes her eyes, pinching her tears off.  She
smoothes her hand over Hannah’s hair.  “I’m scared too,” she whispers.

Abby steps toward the door, instantly picking up on the
connection.  “I’ll give you two a minute.”

“I’m so sorry, Hannah.  It’s all my fault.  He’s
dead and it’s all my fault.”

“What?”  Hannah’s eyes light up.  “No!  He’s
not dead.  He’s awake!”

Aliah sits there in shock for a few seconds, taking in
Hannah’s smiling face.  “But the blood.  The floor was covered in
it.”  As she inspects Hannah’s expression, she notices a few scratches on
her face and a dark bruise forming on her neck.

“It was my blood,” she admits, looking horrified.

“Who?  Abby told me the police had caught Brandee up
the road.”

“Jillian.”

That name echoes through Aliah’s head for what seems like an
eternity.

“It was Jillian all along,” Hannah explains.

Aliah becomes very confused.  “I want to see him. 
I have to see him.”  She moves the blankets aside, and drops her feet to
the cold floor.  “Where is he?  Can you take me to him? 
Please?” she begs.

“Uh…”  The smile leaves Hannah’s face in an
instant.  She doesn’t know what to say.

“What is it, Hannah?  What’s wrong?”

When she doesn’t answer, Aliah pulls on a robe and heads for
the nurses’ station.  The woman there recognizes her, but she doesn’t look
real impressed by the intrusion.